Conversation Without Coffee
by celticgina
Summary: What Grace thought at the end of "Like a Redheaded Stepchild"  Major spoilers if you have not seen this one.  Because you all KNEW that scene needed a fic!   GRIGSBY of course.  Send the bunnies chocolate and reviews please!


**If you have not seen the episode, "Like a Red-Headed Stepchild", stop now. Major Spoilers ahead. Ok, you have been warned.**

**Ohmigod! That scene in the kitchenette! Holy crap! Who knew my other story, (and yes, I am working on it. The bunnies have that last long chapter written and are now arguing!) But this one just hopped up and DEMANDED attention. I am sure you will all agree this bunny needed to have this one typed up!**

**So, a little angst from her POV.**

**Reviews and chocolate people, reviews and chocolate! **

**DISCLAIMER: Own nothing but hope right now.**

**Conversation Without the Coffee**

She thought she would never feel that pain again. She was engaged, after all, to a man who loved her. He was a man the rules allowed. It should be all good. She was having her cake and eating it too. She was marrying a wonderful man and still got to keep him as a friend. He had been wonderful, really. Until tonight.

She knew the moment he walked into that little kitchenette something was different. There was a change in him. The edge she had seen only on stakeouts and dealing with the bad guys was there. He was standing straighter somehow. Something was wrong though. He was upset. She tried to be the friend. She offered to get coffee with him and talk. That's what friends did, right? When he refused, she thought it was just all the pent up emotion he needed to get out. She was sure he would hit the gym. It was how he had handled things when they got too close for him. Well, ever since they, no she, broke them up. He would hit the gym. She knew that.

But when he turned back, she knew even without consciously knowing, that he had something on his mind. It was like him to mull things over. But when he made his decision to talk, he would just say it. It didn't matter if they were in a basement of a crime scene, the back of an ambulance or in a darkened office. He was slow to speak, but would need to speak once he determined what he really wanted.

She thought it would be about his dad. She wanted to be able to reassure him again that he was not his father. He would not turn out like that hulking wreck of a criminal. He was good, honorable and kind.

When he announced he wasn't coming to the wedding, she was surprised. She had already made the seating arrangements in her head. She thought he might like a few of the single girls from back home. She wanted him to be happy.

"I'm still in love with you."

The simple sentence had the impact of an explosion. That part of her heart she had closed off blew open again. It was excruciatingly painful. She knew she said something. Anything to stop him from saying more. In dazed silence she heard him explain he couldn't watch her marry another man.

Then, he kissed her. Oh, God, that kiss. She thought she had forgotten how he kissed. She had hugged him once when she got engaged. Yes, there was a slight twinge at that. But nothing prepared her for that kiss. It was sweet and tender and masterful and sad all at once. He held her head between his big hands and she almost whimpered allowed at the exquisite feel of them. They were warm, careful and strong. Memories of what those hands could do rushed at her. His mouth didn't invade or even ask. It just tasted. Before she could even register it really, he had moved up to her forehead.

His lips over her brow were part farewell and part benediction. She wanted to tilt her head back and bring them back to her own lips. The impulse shocked her. His thumb moved ever so slightly in a caress against her cheek as he tilted their heads together. She could hear him inhale deeply, taking in her scent and then, he was gone.

It had all happened so fast. She knew she stood in that darkened kitchenette for a long time afterward. Her arms stayed wrapped around herself, comforting against the searing pain. That it was ultimately self inflicted didn't dull it at all.

With those few sentences and a pair of almost chaste kisses, he made his farewell. It should have made things simpler. This pain should be the dull ache of regret over a romance now gone.

It wasn't until she registered the moisture on her hands that she realized she had been crying. At first it was just slow tears slipping out from numb eyes. By the time she became aware, they were a steady stream. Her heart literally ached.

She forced herself to unfold her arms and dry her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she conjured up a vision of Craig. He was a good man. He loved her. She loved him, she reminded herself. This was just some old regret that needed to be excised. She had moved on. She would move on.

Then why did she still taste his lips? Why did his voice haunt her brain? Why did his scent still fill her lungs? And mostly, why was she sure they always would?

**Ok, now that this one has been satisfied, maybe the other bunnies will get it together. Leave love people!**


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